Fine Tune
by BeyondCanon
Summary: AU. Sequel to Fine Art. Santana is a painter trying to make a name for herself. And now, apparently, she also is the girlfriend of the out, proud, famous pop singer Brittany Pierce. [Abandoned]
1. Prologue

**NA: **Hello. As many of you requested, on I decided to give Fine Art a sequel. All love and cookies to iheartbrittana and brsoccerchic for the opinions and beta-ing and patience. Oh, it may come to you as a shock, but I don't own anything related to Glee but the stories on my profile.

**Reading Fine Art is essential to the full understanding of this story.**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

"Now, you look delicious." Brittany says, gorgeous with her attire entirely in black leather and her strong, smoky eye makeup and looking at Santana as if she wants to devour her. "Well, you said that already the first time we met." Santana adds with a neutral tone, not bothered in the least by her girlfriend's eyes scanning the indecent amount of legs her robe is displaying. Rock Sensation Blonde comes closer, hands resting on Santana's thighs with second intentions. Santana just smirks.

"We have to get ready for the photo shoot." Santana says when Blonde opens her robe and marvelous hands touch skin, her own hands sliding down the leather coat's zipper so she can look at Blonde's rambunctious twins and have her mouth watered. She tries not to close her eyes when Brittany scratches her stomach, positioning herself between Santana's legs, because she wants to stare at that goddess in black leather and who knew she could develop a new fetish for black leather so quickly. "The makeup girl isn't here; they took your clothes to fix that little problem..." Blonde says, mouth close to Santana's ear, making the robe slide off Santana's shoulders and fall onto the desk Santana's sitting on. "We have a bit of time, and you're already naked anyway." Santana is shivering, mouth dry in anticipation, torn between giving in to Blonde and keeping her composure, but it's hard to pull herself together when Cherry Bomb Blonde is French kissing her neck.

Blonde bites and Santana groans, grasping the blessed table she's sitting on for balance, a table so perfectly built for their height difference, so perfectly built for her to wrap her legs around Blonde and kiss her hard, pulling her jacket until she can feel the cool leather and she's moaning at the contact and she's wishing she could take it off as much as she's wishing she could keep it on. Handsome Devil's hand goes south as the other assures that Santana's leg is conveniently up, because the girl is straight to the point and they don't have much time to work with and Santana is more than ready for this, after a whole six hours without sex she's ready again. She doesn't even know how she ended up with that woman, what she had done to deserve all that ability and endless sexual drive, she thinks in awe as they take a long moment just looking at each other. Holding back a moan not to draw attention is hard when Blonde is looking at her like that and touching her like that, very aware of the right buttons to push and when to add pressure and when to speed the pace, and she can swear she hears her girlfriend mumble _mine_ at some point, and she answers back _yours_ because she does belong to her, there is no denying that and Blonde seems to like when she hears Santana say it. So she says "yours" again, and apparently it's what Blonde needs to pull Santana's hair back and add extra pressure to that perfect spot. And people can come in anytime, with Santana's dress or their makeup kit and damn they're having a photo shoot but Santana can feel her pressure building and she's moaning Blonde's name against her chest again and again and again until she finally comes undone, throwing herself back on the desk breathless and absolutely satisfied.

"You should get dressed." Impossible Blonde teases, licking her own fingers and staring at Santana's chest. She takes a few moments but complies, dressing herself in the robe once more. "Just wait until I can get you out of these clothes." Santana says, running a finger over Blonde's cleavage.

"Hi! I'm back!" The assistant comes in, a bright girl absolutely terrified of the two of them, carrying Santana's dress. "I'm so so sorry for the delay!" The makeup artist comes in right after her, apologizing for the family emergency that got her to leave. Lucky for them, Blonde is probably the least temperamental pop star the world has ever known, and accepts both apologies in a heartbeat, without throwing a fit or giving anyone a cold treatment. When they're done Santana looks at herself in the mirror and she knows she looks good in her tiny black dress that leaves no room for imagination because Blonde stretches a hand to touch her waist and says something that sounds like _amazing_ before biting her lower lip. Right before they leave the dressing room Handsome Devil holds her arm, earning them a few seconds of privacy. "I'm really happy we're doing this." She says and Santana nods, suddenly silenced by the assistant's arrival, and squeezes Brittany's hand to show her she's happy, too.

They're walking hand in hand and the photographer is already there, and Santana wonders how much thought Brittany's publicist had put into the fact she was wearing a dress and Blonde was wearing leather and their first official photos together could give some of Santana's rockability to her girlfriend and maybe help her reach another target audience. "Let's show everyone how beautiful you are!" The photographer is excited, pointing to where they should stand, and Santana takes the mic like she owns it and takes Brittany for an impromptu duet staring intensely at each other's eyes. The photographer then instructs Santana to hold an electric guitar, and then Santana and Blonde are dancing together, having a great time, and then Santana is sandwiched between Brittany and the wall and then they're tangled in each other on a couch, and, in Santana's favorite shot, Brittany is sitting on a couch and Santana sits on the arm rest, and it is physically impossible to be any more of a power couple, Santana thinks.

They are barefoot and with no makeup on, just enjoying each other's company after all the photos were taken, when the interviewer arrives. Blonde is playing with Santana's hair and they're looking at each other like love fools when the interviewer clears her throat - she's short and has the biggest smile Santana has ever seen - and they shake hands and invite her to sit down. The interview is light and Brittany should be nominated for the Nicest Person Award, because she makes jokes, holds Santana's hand and even makes Santana sound like a palatable person and not the irascible woman she can be. She tells the interviewer about how hard it was to try to build a relationship under wraps, dealing with jealousy and privacy issues. Brittany tells them about Santana's performance and how she went there to get her back, and the woman looks at them in a daze, so Santana laughs and exchanges a quick kiss with Blonde. It's not a new story, as blurry pictures of their kiss took over the internet that same night and caused riots among Brittany's fans, but it never fails to charm. She feels funny about exposing herself like this, but she was told to go for it and convince the world it was meant to be before the criticism and homophobia and general bickering tried to convince the public otherwise. They sure are making one hell of a statement.

Then they talk about Santana, the concerts with Puck's band, New Directions, and her career as a painter and the murals she had painted for Kurt, Rachel, Shelby and the city of New York. They talk about their careers, and balancing their schedules and the friends they had. It all sounds very calm, very mature, and there's a new togetherness/partnership in their posture; this time they do sound like a couple, like they're building something together.

Brittany's publicist advised them to go out in public normally, to create speculation and anticipation for the interview's release a few days later. So they meet Quinn and Rachel at a restaurant for a quick dinner and Santana's heart races when Blonde leans into her to show her something on the menu and when she puts a stray hair behind Santana's ear like it's no big deal. From her peripheral view she sees Tiny Rachel melting as she witnesses their romance, and she rolls her eyes at that, but she's smiling a little nonetheless. Pippin sees their story as if reading a book, thrilled with their romance, playing matchmaker, and Santana wonders how Quinn handles that big of a need for romance, but at least it seems she does just fine with her pretty smile and her ability to command Berry's attention.

Santana has to admit that publicist is one hell of a woman, because her interview did make everything sound like a fairytale and they looked great in their photos, and Santana can tell a whole aura is being built around them. Quinn pulls the chair for Rachel and pays for her part of the bill, but Santana doesn't have enough money to pay for her and for Blonde, and the restaurant is way too much for her, as it usually happens when she goes out with either of the famous girls, and even though she understands she can't take Brittany just anywhere, it doesn't mean she makes enough money to afford spending a fortune every meal. Blonde is not one to let her pay the bill, so they split it, but it bothers Santana a bit that she can't take her girl out like Quinn, for whom money has never been a problem.

The four of them end up at Berry's house to watch West Side Story, or making out to West Side Story, because Berry has made everyone watch it 15 times and memorize the whole thing and Santana is not in the mood to watch a stupid musical anyway, and when Blonde is looking at her all hot and bothered, finger running down Santana's arm, she just wants to kiss her. She doesn't think the others will mind, because she can see Quinn's hand disappearing under Frodo's blouse - this surely isn't the good little Quinnie her parents so catholically raised, but Quinn seems to enjoy living in homosexual sin as long as there is no risk of anyone within a 1000 mile radius of her family hearing about it - and she'll be damned if anyone at all is paying attention because they are still horny teenagers, apparently.

But then of course Brittany's cell phone rings, and of course they are interrupted, breaking the spell that is to have Blonde's full attention. She tries to go to the bathroom to clear her head and throw some cold water on her face. She's still full of worries, about their relationship, about all the fine tuning they have yet to do, because loving is not nearly enough for who they are and what they have. Their relationship has a clear impact on their careers and their friendships and how structured their lives are around each other. Problems are still there, under the surface, no matter how many interviews and photo shoots and nights of mind blowing sex they have. Her mind goes back and forth sometimes, between the wonder of having Brittany and all her fears and all their problems.

But Handsome Devil enters the bathroom, murmurs "it was taking you too long", and throws her against the wall, body flush against her and demanding hips pressing against hers as she kisses her deep and skillfully. Thinking does get harder when Blonde gets all top and possessive and biting and bossy, so she just drops her worries right there, and what is that woman's fetish with that cold, hard, bathroom floor, because Santana is on the floor already and her skirt is long gone. Blonde's appetite is absolutely legendary and she thanks every pagan god since ancient Egypt for that, hands grasping yellow hair as Blonde dives in and the feel of her hot back against the cold tile makes her shiver and quiver and honestly there are too many sensations with Blonde's tongue and the hard floor and she hates hard floors but she loves Blonde's mouth. Poor Berry, what would she say if she knew there were very few places in her house she and Blonde hadn't done it in, she thinks as she tries not to moan too scandalously so that no one really notices Pop Aphrodite is going down on her in that gigantic bathroom.

They can figure out their problems tomorrow, that's for sure.


	2. Roll With It

**01**

Something is off. Something is off because she is off. Santana looks in frustration at another mediocre, insincere painting, and she looks around to see herself surrounded by equally useless work. Something has been wrong for some time now, and she can't paint anything worthwhile nor sell a single painting. She doesn't like to live off of her savings; not at all.

She rips them all, the sharp edges of her Swiss knife slicing through the canvas, fresh paint staining her fingers, her hands, her arms, small drops reaching her overalls. She has begun to hate the mere scent of paint, invading her nostrils, proof of wasted material and wasted talent. She throws everything on the ground, panting. She doesn't want to look at any of those things.

Santana closes her eyes and inhales. She needs to calm down. She needs to stop picturing the disappointed faces of Blaine and Kurt when they see her work and she fucking needs to stop dreaming about her bank account. She stays there long enough for the paint to itch, glued to her body and almost dry. She realizes she's sweaty, irritated and hungry.

She's stuck again, and she's losing sleep again over worries about making ends meet and maybe taking up a part time job. She sits on the cold floor and tries to calm her heart, but there are few worse moments than looking at your creation and despising it, and it seems to be all that has been happening the last few weeks in an endless cycle she is unable to break or trace back to its origins. She closes her eyes and focuses on the sounds of cars and conversations and someone playing a guitar coming from her window.

Brittany comes out of the bedroom, puffy eyes and pajamas, and stops for a moment to look at the mess Santana has just made. She tries to say something, but Santana raises her hand. She doesn't want words of comfort. She wants a fucking shower and some fucking inspiration. She gives Brittany a quick peck and heads to the bathroom.

When she goes to the kitchen, the apartment is once again organized, and all her ruined work is in a trash bag. A wave of gratitude for having Brittany hits her, and she kisses her girlfriend because she can. Brittany wraps her arms around Santana and whispers it's just a phase; Santana tries to believe it.

There's toast, fresh strawberries and the smell of coffee filling the kitchen. Brittany kisses her again, slow and tentative, and Santana lets her hands roam over a lean back. The sigh Brittany lets out as they deepen the kiss is refreshing after waking up at ungodly hours just to fail at doing her job. Santana pulls her closer until she's sandwiched between the table and Brittany.

"You're wonderful." She says, and Brittany smiles.

Santana's phone rings and who the fuck calls someone at 10am on a Saturday? She groans. It's a text from Quinn: "Rachel broke up with me. I thought you should know. Q". A sudden ache fills her bones. Who breaks up with somebody else on a Saturday morning? Why would they break up? They were a disgustingly cute and happy couple. The type that gets married, adopts a Vietnamese baby and becomes UNICEF Ambassadors or something. Quinn wasn't the type to screw shit up – that was Santana. Quinn was the type to commit.

Santana shows Brittany the text, speechless. Brittany tries to call Quinn, but she doesn't pick up. They decide Santana would go to Quinn's and Brittany would go to Rachel's, because _someone_ had to understand what on Earth Rachel was thinking.

Santana has Quinn's keys, just in case it came in handy. She thanks Quinn for having had that idea when she first moved, because when she enters her friend is sitting on her bed staring at the wall, and barely acknowledges her presence. She looks devastated, red eyes and messy hair. Santana feels sorry for the girl, and there's restlessness in how unusual it is. She sits next to Quinn.

Quinn doesn't look at her for the longest of times. "She broke up with me." She lets out weakly. "She doesn't understand." Santana pulls her in for a hug and hopes Quinn doesn't cry. Quinn never cries. Santana cries when she's sad, when she's afraid, when she's drunk… Quinn cried when her father kicked her out, when her first boyfriend broke up with her for another girl, when her baby was born, and when the baby's adoptive mother denied her visitation rights: a total of four times in the last ten years. "I have hurt them enough, can't she see?"

Santana doesn't understand a thing. "Who, Quinn?" Quinn looks at her before answering, "My parents." Her voice cracks. "I got pregnant. I stopped going to church. I brought them enough shame already." Santana holds her close in understanding. Quinn was still getting back in her parents good graces. She still craved acceptance. "I can't let them know I'm not straight."

Santana sighs. Quinn still couldn't say it out loud. Quinn was still fighting a battle against herself. Rachel had the opposite philosophy of living bravely the life she wanted to live. Santana looks at Quinn and see tears threatening to fall. Her phone rings with a text from Brittany: "Rachel is a mess. I can't understand what she's saying. Something about the closet."

An hour passes in dead silence before she manages to drag Quinn out of there. They take a cab to Santana's apartment, where Quinn lies down on the couch. Santana gets her a glass of water and a blanket. She doesn't know what to say. Quinn isn't the type to express emotions. She isn't the type to be broken hearted after the end of any relationship. Santana runs a hand through her friend's soft hair until she drifts to sleep.

Santana worries about Quinn until Brittany arrives and sits by her side on the floor. Quinn's breathing is steady and heavy as Brittany quietly tells Santana about Rachel and her desperation. Brittany says she doesn't understand; they were so good together. Santana puts her head on Britt's shoulder.

A hundred and thirty two minutes pass before Quinn wakes up again. She looks around for a moment, turns around and goes back to sleep.


End file.
